


One Night

by pissedoffeskimo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Miscarriage, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-30
Updated: 2014-04-30
Packaged: 2018-01-21 09:37:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1546160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pissedoffeskimo/pseuds/pissedoffeskimo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco can have only one heir. What will he do when a one night stand leaves Harry pregnant with his child?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted in 2003. I have not extensively edited since then. I apologize. Also, please be aware this is not meant to be a happy story. Consider yourself warned.

"Potter?" Draco rolled his eyes to the right to see if his new found confidant was still alert. When a barely audible groan assured him he was, the blond looked back towards the grey stone wall in front of him, "Why the hell did I just tell you that, anyway?"

Harry let a soft, inebriated giggle slip from his lips and past the bottle he’d been sucking on, "Because, Malfoy, you’re drunk. Besides, you know very well my Gryfdindor honor won’t let me tell anyone else."

"Gryffindor."

"‘At’s what I said."

"No, you said Gryfdindor."

After a moment Draco felt a hand thwack him half-hearted on the back of the head. It was probably meant to be a devastating blow, but Harry couldn’t pronounce the name of his own house properly, let alone summon the coordination necessary to smite his would-be enemy. "Did you get me drunk just so you could make fun of me and I couldn’t fight back?"

Draco considered the sudenly bright consequence of his actions, "No, I’m a self serving Slyth’rin; I got you drunk because I did not want to drink alone. You are just the self sacrificing Gryfdindor that agreed to drink with me."

"Gryffindor."

"Hmm."

Draco pressed his back firmly against Harry’s and closed his eyes, trying desperately to remember exactly why getting drunk had been a good idea. Oh, yes, of course, it had been his father. But then it was always his father, wasn’t it? No need to make an exception this time.

This particular drinking escapade had been set off by a letter. Taking another deep swig, Draco absently remembered it was also always set off by a letter. "Potter." Harry didn’t bother answering, just drove his elbow into Draco’s back with little effect. "What should I do?"

The room went deadly silent, giving way only to their breathing as they both thought on the question. It wasn’t an easy one, not for Draco, anyway, but it was the age old dilemma of the Malfoy family line - Should he do what his father wanted? Of course, it got a might-bit more difficult when one actually considered what it was his father wanted and what the consequences of not doing it were.

Draco felt Harry heave a big, labored sigh, "Do you want to kill people?"

"No one wants to kill anyone, Potter."

"Your father does." A pregnant silence fell over them as Draco turned this over in his mind for a moment. Yes, his father probably did. He grabbed for the bottle he had set on the floor next to him and tried to take a drink, only to find it was empty. Throwing it against the wall he watched it break and the pieces fall to the ground. "Do you?"

"Of course I don’t!" He eyed the broken pieces of the bottle, thinking about licking the slick fragments. "Gods, what am I supposed to do?"

"About what?"

Looking back, Draco stared at the back of Harry’s head for a moment, stunned. "What do you think ‘about?’ That we’re out of alcohol? About my father, you git, about my bloody future."

"Oh, that." Slapping Harry’s arm, Draco congratulated himself on the resounding echo. "Feel better?"

"No."

He saw Harry rubbing his arm out of the corner of his eye and nearly starting laughing again, "Well, you had better feel something, that bloody well hurt."

"You deserved it."

After another long moment of silence Harry chuckled, "Yeah, I did. But, you know, the answer's rather simple, Malfoy, whether you want it to be or not. Don’t do it. It’s not like failing a test. You can’t take it back, and you can’t make it up to anyone. When you kill someone their dead, and nothing you do can change that. It’ll eat you up inside."

Draco gave a deep sigh, "Yeah, but there’s other things to consider, you know. If I don’t, he’ll kill me, or worse, he’ll kick me out. You know, even if I do live through whatever he does to me, I lose my inheritance. All of it. Do you have any idea how much money that is?"

"Enough to kill for?"

Shrugging, Draco laid his head back against Harry’s shoulder. "Not really. Where would I live, though? I can’t very well go back home."

Harry flung his arm back, putting his hand on the blonde’s head. "You could live with me."

Draco laughed back, "Right, we can spend entire days flinging insults. Then, at night, when we’re really bored, we can take turns trying to hex each other in our sleep."

"Sounds fun."

They hadn’t been friends for very long, in fact, ‘friends’ was probably stretching it; they got along when they wanted to, which was especially when one or other needed to drink. It was only the fourth, maybe fifth, time they’d done this. The year had started out so normal, too. Since their fifth year neither had bothered to say more than a few words to the other, it just wasn’t worth it. Harry had the world to save, Draco had his father’s expectations to live up to.

Then, two month ago, he had found Harry kicking chairs over in an abandoned classroom. Draco showed up the next night with a bottle of vodka he’d brought from his father’s private store and they’d spent the night drinking and reminding each other of the various embarrassing things that had happened. The ferret incident had ended up as possibly the most embarrassing thing either had suffered, although, Harry’s now infamous truth or dare game in sixth year came a close second. That entire first evening had been... pleasant, and relieving. Draco couldn’t remember the last time he talked with someone who had an attention span lasting more than five bloody seconds; and to think, Harry had been drunk most of the time. So, they’d made a point of doing it again.

Draco cocked an eyebrow at the glass staring at him from a few feet away. Maybe Harry’s idea wasn’t such a bad one after all. They didn’t always get drunk, sometimes they just sat, back to back, and stared at the walls until someone came up with something interesting to say, but it was never quite an awkward silence, it was comfortable. Just two people enjoying not being alone together.

Harry shifted behind him and turned half around, "Malfoy?"

"Yeah?"

"You’re a real buzz kill sometimes." Soft laughter followed quickly, indicating that it was a joke although, of course, it was just as true as it was humorous. Now that they weren’t sucking down vodka like pumpkin juice Draco was suddenly very tired.

"Potter, what time is it?"

Harry stumbled to his feet, pulling Draco up with him, "Time to get you back to the dormit’ries." With much stumbling, and several incidents of the blonde falling on his ass, Harry finally managed to deposited Draco on a sofa in the Slytherin common room where he promptly passed out.

Trying not to make too much noise, Harry slipped outside the portrait and made his own way half-hazardly through the dungeon. It had been so much easier to keep himself upright when he was supporting someone else. Stopping at a familiar door, he slammed his fist into it and leaned against the frame. A whole sodding bottle of vodka. It really had not been a good idea. He hadn’t thought it was good idea when Draco had come up with it, either, and yet he’d still gone along. Oh well, of the two of them he was sure Draco had drank the most, more than half. So Harry was fairly sure it was safe to say he’d been the responsible party.

He stood up straighter and tried to knock again. It seemed more like an attempt at pummeling the door, especially when it opened in mid swing and, instead of solid, supportive wood under his hand, he found air. Stumbling forward into the room, Harry grabbed the first thing he could reach and found himself looking up into the face of his very displeased lover. "Hi, Sev’rus." Then everything seemed to fade happily away into nothing.

 

__________________________

 

The ‘meetings’ were arranged for once a week. If Draco could get booze so much the better, but either way they met to let off steam. Sometimes they indulged in placing thick silencing charms around the room and kicking things, usually they sat on the floor or the large teacher’s desk and huffed at each others problems until they realized that, in major scope of things, petty jealousy and grades really did not matter.

Tonight, Draco really needed to hurt something; really, really needed to hurt something and as much as he would prefer that thing to be able to fight back, he had little hope that Harry would go for it. He hadn’t called him Saint Potter for nothing.

Turning into the doorway, Draco plastered his usual smug grin on his face, playing their normal game of ‘everything was all right.’ Like anything could be right about the two of them meeting late at night in an abandoned classroom to talk. It was probably the most moronic thing to come out of their time together. It even beat the hangover he had last week, which was the reason he was wishing he could use Potter as punching bag. Honestly, leaving him on the couch? Did he have any conception how embarrassing it was to not only wake up vomiting, but find most of your house staring down at you while you did it?

It took him a few moments to find Harry in the room and when he did he almost wished he hadn’t. The black haired boy was sitting in a corner near the door looking utterly miserable. Draco stood and stared for a moment. What the hell was he supposed to do? Harry had never looked this... despondent. He looked like a child whose puppy had run away, hell, he looked like he was about to cry.

"Potter?"

The glistening green eyes suddenly latched onto his and he stared back for a moment, waiting for something. He was at least hoping for some form of embarrassment. Instead, Harry sighed and looked back down, "Just go away, Malfoy. I’m not in the mood tonight."

‘Not in the mood?’ Draco defiantly plopped himself next to Harry and stared straight ahead, listening to the other boys uneven breathing, "I could care less if you’re in the mood or not, Potter, we have a date and you are keeping it."

After a moment he heard a deep chuckle and was surprised at how relieved he felt, "Date? God, Malfoy, you’re something else. Since when does sitting in a dark room doing nothing in particular constitute dating?"

"Since you had the nerve to say you weren’t in the mood."

The blonde quirked an eyebrow to his right and watched Harry dissolve into laughter, "Yeah, okay, so it sounded a little..."

Draco grinned back, feeling a bit more sure of himself, "It sounded like you were trying to get out of sex."

To his own horror he watched Harry’s face nearly crumble, "Could we just not talk about that, please?"

Throwing his arm dramatically around Harry’s shoulder, Draco waited patiently until he had eye contact, "You just said ‘please.’ To me."

"Oh, god, no."

"You, Harry Potter, said please to Draco Malfoy."

Harry elbowed the other boy with enough force to bruise, and smiled when he was rewarded with a very unMalfoylike curse word. "That’ll learn you."

Snickering, Draco leaned back against the wall, elbows on his upraised knees, "‘Learn me?’ Where do you get that stuff?"

"Same way you get the alcohol. ‘You don’t wanna know.’"

They sat quietly for a while. Harry seemed calmer, still upset about something, but no longer holding back tears. It was strange, but Draco was feeling better himself. Breaking the silence, Draco leaned on the brunette and gave him puppy dog eyes, "Potter, it’s absolutely horrible. I have a sneaking suspicion we’ve just become actual friends."

Harry stared, "How the hell did you come to that conclusion."

"I liked making you feel better."

Sarcasm dripped from Harry’s voice, "Oh, this is serious."

Slapping the other boy’s calf, Draco smirked, "Don’t make fun of me, this is a travesty. Malfoys are not friends with Potters! ...So, is there anything else I can do to make it better?"

For a moment he expected Harry to make some kind of cutting remark, but then his face began to lite up, and he started grinning wickedly. "It’s brilliant. Malfoy, have sex with me."

"I thought you didn’t want to talk about that."

"No, Malfoy, listen. Have sex with me. None emotional, short term, never to happen again sex."

Well, that was rather unexpected, but not entirely impossible now that he thought about it. "No strings?"

"None what so ever. It’ll be like it never happened."

"Nothing changes between us?"

"Absolutely nothing."

"Never again?"

"Not even if you beg."

Slapping the side of Harry’s head, he thought it over for a moment longer before getting to his feet stretching, "All right, but I’m on top."

"Deal."

Thus began what Draco would, twenty minutes later, consider the new most embarrassing moment of his life.

Harry stood up and walked to the desk, sitting on it expirmentally, before motioning for his soon-to-be lover to follow. Draco hesitantly stepped forward and Harry and wrapped his arms around Draco's neck. He wasn’t really sure why he was doing it, they weren’t lovers, he didn’t have fond feelings towards him, and the act itself wasn’t even comforting in any particular way; it just felt like something he ought to do seeing as he was about to let the other boy shove something he grudgingly admitted was rather large into an untoward part of his anatomy.

He opened his mouth automatically at Draco’s questioning tongue and forced himself to kiss back. It wasn’t all that bad. It was different and there was something there. As awkward as the moment was, it was obvious that Draco was at the least trying to enjoy it and that had to count for something.

He spread his legs a little wider, more acutely aware of the wooden desk digging into his hipbone as Draco pressed further into the offered space.

Awkward did not even come close to how Harry would describe this moment. He knew for a fact that he was too tense to facilitate an erection and, if the hard lips pressed too firmly against his own were anything to go by, Draco was in a similar position.

Harry pulled back, finding himself breathing far heavier than he would have expected. “This is... odd.”

Draco cringed and nodded, “Yeah, but, it’s not bad, is it?”

“No!” Harry shook his head, “Not bad, just...” He twitched slightly “odd. Maybe we should try something different. Like, maybe we should skip the foreplay all together and get straight to the sex.”

“Right.” Draco tried not to look uncertain or in any way uncomfortable as Harry removed his clothes. The shirt was the first thing to go and Draco found himself inadvertently admiring the smooth, tan skin. He’d tried to tan a few times and it had never worked. He’d just managed to turn his skin a bright tomato red.

The shirt, however, was not what settled the dead weight of reality in the pit of his stomach. The zipper did that. It had been like one of those horrible muggle movies Blaise occasionally subjected him to in the name of ‘knowing their enemy.’ Everything seemed to slow down for the briefest of moments and that absurd zipping sound echoed in his head like a bloody shotgun.

He was going to have sex with Harry. Not just sex, no sex could be something as simple as a hand job or a quick blow job. No, he was going to bugger Harry Potter and he had absolutely no idea how to go about it. Well, that wasn’t entirely true, he had some idea. His cock, Harry’s ass. Beyond that he knew fuck all.

“Malfoy?”

Damn, he’d been staring. And when had Harry taken off his underpants? Draco blinked a few times at his decidedly nude friend before looking up, “Yeah?”

“You sure you want to do this?”

“Of course I’m sure, Potter, I wouldn’t have agreed otherwise.”

Harry smiled and reached out, unbuttoning Draco’s cloak clasp and letting it fall to the floor with no regard for how expensive it was or what kind of material it was made from. “Well, you can’t very well do it fully clothed, can you?”

Draco had the absurd urge to say that he could do anything he wanted, before it occurred to him that Harry was probably right; even with his limited experience, he knew it would make things very difficult.

He couldn’t, however, bring himself to shove Potter’s hands away as they expertly unbuttoned his shirt, callused fingers brushing against his delicate skin as each button gave way. Harry didn’t even seem to mind. In fact, as more skin was revealed and the dark haired boy began pulling the tale of the shirt from Draco’s pants, he noticed that Harry was decidedly enjoying himself.

With a hidden gulp, Draco reached out and cupped Harry’s face, pulling it up and into another, slower kiss as the buttons on his pants were parted. This was much different. Harry was kissing back this time, and Draco couldn’t hold back a deep throated moan when a hand stole into his trousers and began stroking his penis, which responded as though there had been a call to arms.

The lips under his were soft and warm and moving with him, pressing against him as he pressed back. The hand in his pants was hard and rough, but strangely arousing. He wasn’t sure which he liked better, the soft lips, or the rough hands. Eventually, he decided it didn’t matter, because he was being given both.

The hand was momentarily removed as his pants as his underpants were shoved past his hips and onto the ground, but it returned with vigor shortly afterward, accompanied by Harry’s tongue in his mouth. Now that Draco was rock hard and free of constraint it was much easier for Harry to get a good grip and Draco was very appreciative of the talented hands as they stroked him.

He was just starting to lose himself in what could arguably be called a moment, when Harry pulled back, breathing heavy and wearing a rather stupid grin. “That’s a bit more like it.”

Draco scowled, “Shut up.”

“Turning on the Malfoy charm, are we?” Harry lay back and pulled his legs up, exposing himself more fully than Draco had even imagined possible for a man. “Just get to the sex.”

He was fighting back the urge to gulp nervously when Harry pushed himself up onto his elbows and slipped two fingers into his mouth before reached his hand down towards his crotch. In all his years thinking about sex and about girls and occasionally about boys, he had never once thought he would find watching another boy touch himself this erotic.

However, Harry didn’t seem to just be planning on touching himself. He bypassed his cock completely and slid one of the fingers into his ass. Harry’s eye closed behind his glasses, his face taught in concentration as he moved the finger in and out, slowly.

When the second finger joined the first, Harry opened his eyes, grinning in a seductive manner, “Never watched a man finger himself before?”

Draco shook his head numbly. He had the oddest sensation of being fascinated, disturbed, and excited at the same time. When the fingers pressed in, the tight ring of muscle was pushed in with them, and when they pulled out it stretched out as well. It looked so... tight, and stretched, even with just two little fingers, Draco could hardly imagine anything bigger fitting in, let alone his cock. But when Harry suddenly pulled them out and lay back, he very much wanted to try.

He leaned over Harry, looking down at him with as steady an expression as he could manage. It couldn’t be that different from fucking a girl, he rationalized, you just stick it in.

Licking his lip nervously, he pulled Harry’s legs up, placing one on his shoulder to allow for better access. Harry reached down between their bodies and lifted his balls up and out of Draco’s way, something the blond hadn’t even considered.

Well, here went nothing. Positioning himself with his hand, he thrust forward in one, swift movement.

“Oh, god!” He felt a sharp pain rip through his crotch and stopped completely. The cry, however, had not come from him, but from Harry whose eyes were impossible wide in shock, pain, and anger.

“You bloody... twat! What the hell is wrong with you?”

Draco made to pull out, but Harry whimpered, his eyes suddenly filling with tears, “Stop! Just, don’t move.”

Normally he would have been perturbed at having been ordered to do, or not do anything, but something was obviously wrong, so he decided to do as he was told.

After several deep breaths, Harry spoke through clenched teeth, “What in the name of Merlin did you do that for?”

Draco started to shift his position, but even the tiniest movement made Harry tense further, so he forced himself to remain perfectly still, despite the discomfort. “Do what?”

“Do what?!” Harry’s narrowed his eyes angrily, “What do you mean ‘do what?’”

The tone of Harry’s voice made Draco wince slightly. It had been an honest question. He knew he’d done something wrong, he was in enough pain himself to know that, but he really wasn’t sure what it was. “Well, I...” He found himself flushing in embarrassment and did his best to ignore it. “I’ve never really done this before.”

Harry’s face went from livid to completely blank. “Never done this?”

Draco shook his head and Harry took several deep, calming breathes. “Listen to me very carefully, you will slowly pull out, then you will back away, and if you’re really smart, you’ll run.”

He had no intentions of running, but he did slowly begin to pull out, trying hard to ignore the little simpering cries falling from Harry’s lips in quick succession. Unfortunately, he’d barely begun moving when a wave of pleasure ripped through him, spreading from his balls, down his legs and into his head.

Harry’s cold voice under him, however, quickly belayed any after glow he might have felt. “Please tell me you did not just do what I think you did.”

“I…”

“Out, now…”

The moment he had pulled completely free, Harry shoved him away and tried to stand. It didn’t work. The other boy’s knees gave out instantly and he ended up landing on his ass with a sharp cry.

Draco stood stiffly next to him and stared forward while Harry crossed his legs, mumbling incoherent words of pain as he did so, and bent forward to rest his head on his calves.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted in 2003. I have not extensively edited since then. I apologize.

"Potter, are you okay?"

"No."

Draco cringed at the response, but could hardly blame him; not that this stopped him from being worried. Harry had been sitting on the ground, legs crossed, with his head on his calves for the past half hour and that couldn’t very well be good for circulation. "Potter, are you going to sit there all night?"

He saw the shoulders raise and lower in a slow, heavy sigh, "No, Malfoy." Well, that was good. "I’ll be sitting here all week as I’m not entirely sure I can move."

Okay, not so good.

He sat down next to the other boy and put his back against the heavy wooden desk. It wasn’t all his fault. Harry had been the one to suggest it, and not even bother to ask if Draco was gay, let alone if he’d ever had sex before. Of course, he’d had sex, but Pansy was about as attractive as a garden gnome, and just about as adept in bed.

"Are you mad at me?"

"No." That was.... "I went well beyond mad when you shoved your cock up my unlubricated arse. Do you mind keeping it down? Only I’m trying to ignore you."

Draco winced, but didn’t say anything else for a time. He knew he deserved it, but it was rather difficult to have the first real friend he’d ever made mad at him less than an hour after they’d acknowledged their friendship. "Potter?"

"What!?"

"If it makes you feel any better, I think you put me off sex entirely."

For a moment he was afraid Harry had taken it as an insult, but then he heard the familiar deep chuckle, "Well, then, at least it was for a good cause. Harry Potter saves the world yet again." When they’d finished laughing, Harry looked up, anger no longer bright behind his eyes, "You really should have told me you didn’t know what you were doing."

Draco scrunched his nose distastefully, "It was a matter of pride."

"You know what? Of the two, I’d choose my partners arse over my pride, besides, it’s not that embarrassing to be a virgin." His voice took on a decidedly sappy tone, "I think it’s rather sweet and noble; the great Draco Malfoy saving himself for the right person."

Draco scowled and resisted the urge to punch Harry’s arm, afraid the movement might make it worse, "I was not saving myself, Potter, and I was not a virgin. No matter how horrible the experience, you alone could not put me off women."

"Oh, and who can?"

"Pansy Parkinson."

He watched a look of sympathy cross Harry’s face before he started laughing again, "I am so sorry, Malfoy, I had no idea. Honestly, if I knew she was your first and only I would have put you out of your misery a long time ago."

Draco did slug him this time, but not as hard as he wanted to, "Shut up, Potter."

They sat in silence, listening to each other breath. With the amount of time they’d spent alone in the past few months Draco had become very familiar with Harry’s breathing and could, for the most part, tell what he was feeling from it. It was evening out, becoming normal, which was a good sign that the pain was lessening.

"Malfoy?"

"Hm?

"I think you may have to take me to the hospital wing."

Draco looked down in shock and horror, "What the bloody hell will you tell Madame Pomfrey? That you fell the wrong way on your broomstick?"

Harry punched him this time, "That doesn’t hurt nearly this bad. Come on, I can actually feel myself bleeding and that is not a good sign."

"You serious?"

"Yeah."

As he helped Harry up, he winced almost imperceptible at the thick stream of blood down his legs and wrapped an arm protectively around the smaller boy’s waist, "How should we do this? Can you walk?"

Harry took a small step forward and fell into Draco’s supportive grip, his legs turning to rubber, "I’m thinking no."

After much scrambling to get their cloaks on without jarring him around too much, Draco bent over and scooped Harry up, surprised at how heavy he was for his size. Physically, he looked no more than 120. He’d only taken a few steps when he felt Harry looking at him. "What?"

"If it ever gets out that you had to carry me I will personally see to it that you never have to worry about sex again."

Draco laughed, but tightened his grip and tried to keep from moving erratically, "Good threat, but tell you what-I won’t tell anyone I carried you if you don’t tell anyone about my stunning premature ejaculation."

Harry chuckled into his chest, it felt almost like a purr, "I don’t think it counts as premature if you get it in."

"Anything under a minute is premature."

Neither of them said another word as they made their way through the halls, but Harry couldn’t hold back "ow ow ow" as Draco laid him on the bed before going off in search of Madame Pomfrey, who, it turned out, did not need an explanation. She shut the young Malfoy out of the room, telling him to wait outside. Five minutes later she came out and glared at him for a few seconds before thrusting a tube of some kind in his hand and sending him back to his dorm for the night.

The tube turned out to be a numbing salve. Setting it on his bed side table, he pulled the covers over himself, not bothering to disrobe.

 

__________________________

 

Draco sat in his desk during Potions absolutely seething at the way his own Head of House had treated him. Snape had actually given him a B. He’d never received a B in Potions in his entire life. He lowered his voice and grumbled to himself, ignoring the fact at his lab partner could hear him. "Stupid old bint, why can’t keep her big mouth shut?"

Harry kicked him under the table, "She could have said worse, Malfoy. I’d be thankful she didn’t let it slip why you brought me in."

Crossing his arms obstinently across his chest, Draco leaned over and dropped his voice, "Yeah? Well, she could have left out the part about my looking ‘concerned.’ I did not look concerned."

"No, you didn’t, you look constipated." Harry tried to muffle his laughter as Draco sputtered.

Snape looked up and they both quickly pretended to be busy. As soon as Snape looked back down at the papers he was grading, Draco leaned over again, "I was not constipated, I was in pain! I’d just about taken a layer of skin off one of my favorite bits. You’d be a little ansy sitting in those wooden chairs, too." He purposefully left off the part about it being entirely numb until the next morning. It seemed to diminish his case against what had been his rather obvious worry.

It had been nearly a month since it had happened and things had gone down hill very quickly for the once powerful Slytherin. He was still feared, he was still respected, it was just that he was now also a traitor to his house. Having the entire school know that he and Harry were indeed friends of a sort was more humiliating and devastating than coming out of the wardrobe. Not that he knew what that felt like, but he was sure he was right.

Weasley had taken it horribly. He’d thrown a fit the first time Harry dragged Draco into the Grffyindor common room, insisting it was safe. Draco absently rubbed the faded mark on his hand that proved Gryffindors, at least those of the Weasel variety, did indeed bite. Granger had been civil, she hadn’t even asked for an apology; not that he ever intended to give one. It seemed that, after the novelty of his being there wore down, most of the house was perfectly content to leave them alone.

"Oh, yes, Malfoy, so terribly sorry I forgot your discomfort. I think I was little too preoccupied with a certain mangled part of my own body to notice."

Ron kicked the back of Harry’s chair and he looked up to see Professor Snape staring at them from behind his desk. It was fairly obvious that he’d been watching for some time and Draco silently prayed, though he wasn’t sure to what, that he hadn’t been using a hearing charm. "Mr. Malfoy, five points, Mr. Potter, twenty, and detention for you both. I do hope neither of you had plans tonight."

Harry turned slightly red, "Why twenty?"

The professor sneered unpleasantly, "You provoked him. Ten more for your insolence."

Draco watched Harry’s jaw clench as Snape stared, daring him to say something else. When nothing happened he went back to grading papers and Harry went back to writing out the essay on why their potion hadn’t worked properly. The blonde sneered down at his own. It had worked properly, it had done just what it was suppose to, however, Snape had absolutely refused to believe it was the correct color. Draco finished scribbling on his paper and slammed his quill down, staring blankly at the front of the room.

Potions was the last class of the day and when Snape dismissed everyone ten minutes later, the two of them stayed behind to start their detention. Weasley stared at Draco irritably for a moment before turning his full attention to his best friend, "You’ll be all right then, Harry?"

"Yeah, probably, if he doesn’t make us clean caldron bottoms again. We’ll meet you and ‘Mione in the common room later."

Weasley made a face, obviously adverse to the thought of Draco joining them, "Why’s the ferret have to come, anyway?"

Draco stood up straighter, tensing, but Harry stepped forward, "Ron, I hang out with him twice a week. You’ll live. And stop calling him ferret."

"Yeah, Weasel."

"You too, Malfoy."

Draco smirked, "I’m not calling anyone a ferret."

"You know what I mean." Harry elbowed the Slytherin in the gut, not bothering to turn around as Draco tried to regain his breath in large gulps.

The red head’s eyes widened, "Bloody hell, Harry, and you call yourselves friends."

Snape’s shadow fell over the group and Ron blanched, "Right, I’ll just give ‘Mione your best, then."

Draco watched his professor in amusement as Harry and Snape glared at each other. It wasn’t anything abnormal, their hate had only intensified since the beginning of sixth year when the professor had spent a great deal of time nursing a starved Potter back to health on Dumbledore’s orders.

After several moments of intense staring, in which neither backed down, Snape handing each a piece of paper and lead them to a door on the right wall of the room, "You will be spending your evening taking inventory of my store room. Certain potions have gone missing recently," he eyed Harry suspiciously, "and I would like to make sure nothing else has mysteriously vanished."

Once they were locked in and he was sure Snape had left, Draco narrowed his grey eyes dangerously, "This’ll take us hours."

Harry had already found the first item on his list and was methodically counting the vials with the matching picture and label, "Yes, four, in fact. Me and Ron had to do it at the end of last year. So, Malfoy," he half turned his head around, giving a sarcastic little smile that oddly resembled Draco’s smirk, "I suggest you get started."

 

__________________________

 

Five hours later, Harry was trying, as he generally did on such occasions, to pointedly ignore Draco as the blonde made every attempt to kick his shin again. Harry was sitting cross legged on the floor with a very bruised right leg. Draco was laying on his stomach, feet in the air, facing away. Every so often he dropped one boot clad foot onto the leg behind him and chuckled evily as Harry cursed.

He went to do it again, but Harry grabbed his foot this time, twisted it to the side and forced Draco onto his back to keep his ankle from snapping. "Stop it."

"You said four hours. It’s been longer." He pushed up onto his elbows and saw that Harry was untying his shoe laces, "What are you doing?"

Taking off one boot, Harry threw it casually behind him and started on the next, "You’re feet turn me on." He rolled his eyes at the disgusted, questioning look he received from the other boy, "You’ll do less damage this way." When both had been removed and placed out of the blonde’s reach, Draco straightened his leg quickly, shoving his heel directly into a spot he knew he’d hit before and smirking as he heard the familiar curse.

Harry scowled, but wasn’t about to try a return assault just yet. If there was one thing Draco had figured out about Harry, other than the fact he was gay, it was that he took his time getting revenge. Sometimes, when he was feeling very contemplative, he wondered why he bothered doing things that incurred the Gryffindor’s select, and rather vicious, form of retaliation, but he’d yet to come up with anything plausible.

Looking over his shoulder at Harry, he watched him running a finger down his list, "I only counted 297 general healing potions which means there are eleven missing."

Draco raised his eye brows at the number, but turned back to his own, "Okay, I’ve got four hang over remedies gone."

"Only four? There should be five." Harry blushed crimson as Draco shot him a look, eyebrow raised even higher, "Well, it wasn’t like I could ask him for them. You sure it’s only four?"

"Yeah." Draco kicked back, becoming annoyed when he missed, "Maybe Snape miscounted."

There was a grunt of disbelief, but he said nothing else about it. "You missing anything else?"

After a moment, Draco chuckled, "Yeah, there were supposed to be two male fertility potions, I could only find one."

"Male fertility?" Harry laughed as he crawled over to look, "Why would Snape have male fertility potions at a school?"

Draco handed the paper over for Harry to inspect, "He’s a potions master, dimwit, you think his only source of income is teaching? He does owl orders and the like. Chances are someone ordered it and then changed their mind."

Harry seemed very thoughtful as he turned the information over in his head, "Well, that explains the leather and silk."

"The what?"

Harry, who had just begun scanning the shelves for the potion, stopped and looked at Draco with an utterly blank expression. "You weren’t... I mean..." He frowned deeply, "It was one of the dares in sixth year, before the... you know what. Fred and George dared me to go into Snape’s rooms and redecorate. They even went so far as to teach me a spell to turn things pink. Anything."

Draco’s eyebrow’s shot up, "You went into Snape’s private quarters and turned his things pink?"

The brunette shook his head dejectedly, "I got in, but he caught me before I could do more than charm the candles. Thing is he had leather furniture, all leather furniture. And not the stiff, uncomfortable kind in the Slytherin commons; I’m talking soft, really nice, rich black leather that you can just sink into and never come out of again."

He stopped as he saw the way Draco’s mouth was hanging open, "Potter, I can’t help but notice you sound a little... familiar with his furniture."

The blank stare slowly changed as Harry began smiling impishly, "Well, I was there for half an hour before he caught me."

"You didn’t!"

The smile turned absolutely wicked, "It was a nice couch! Honestly, I live in a dorm with four other boys, how exactly am I supposed to get any privacy?"

Draco’s eyes filled with a sort of admiration diluted in shock, "You wanked off on Snape’s couch?"

Harry blushed slightly at the indelicate way Draco had put it, and turned his back as he resumed his search for the potion, "You’d better get started double checking my list or we’ll be here for..."

He went very quite. At first Draco thought he’d just decided not to finish, but he also seemed to have stopped breathing. Before he could ask what was wrong Harry thrust the paper into Draco’s hand and cast a spell that nearly knocked Snape’s magically locked door off its hinges.

Turning around for a moment, Harry stared at Draco, assessing the situation, "I am really sorry, Malfoy, but I have to go. Tell Snape... oh hell, tell him I ran out." He started to turn away and then stopped, grinning slightly and pointing at something that seemed to be behind Draco, "Oh, and that’s for kicking me."

Before he could say anything in protest Harry was gone, running through the classroom and out the door. With a huff of annoyance, Draco took a moment to look behind him, but saw nothing of interest. He started to walk briskly from the room, intending to go straight to Snape (there was no way he was recounting over three hundred general healing potions on his own) when he caught his reflection out of the corner of his eye and stopped dead.

His hair was pink.

 

__________________________

 

It was actually a very nice morning as far as mornings had gone the past month. Most people had entirely ignored the fact that his hair was a vibrant pink, at least, they had ignored it after he’d cursed Zabini, who happened to be the first one to say ‘Malfoy, you’re hair, it’s pink’ when he had explicitly told them not to say anything. After a very extensive shower, which he took late to ensure a modicum of solitude, Draco made his way to the Great Hall feeling, for the moment, rather chipper. He received a few snickers from passer-bys, but no one actually said anything and as long as they maintained their semi-silence he could maintain control over his temper.

Harry was already in the Great Hall, his friends on either side of him. They seemed... strange. There really was no other word for it. Granger kept patting Harry on the back, leaning over and whispering in his ear. The Weasel frowned down at Harry’s half empty plate and started piling food on it, which Harry didn’t seem to be taking too kindly; in fact, he was starting to turn on him when Granger said something that made Weasley turn an unflattering shade of red and his shoulders slump dejectedly while Harry chuckled.

Normally secrets did not bother Draco, but something about the despondency in Harry’s posture, the way he hunched over his eggs jabbing them incessantly with his fork as though they might still be alive, made him feel slightly uneasy. He eventually caught Harry’s eye and the Gryffindor nodded hello, but quickly looked back down, shoving some food in his mouth and chewing with obvious distaste.

It wasn’t until midday that Draco was even able to get close to him. Granger and Weasley had left him alone long enough to grab whatever it was they were wrestling with for Care of Magical Creatures. Draco had decided he was uninterested. Who knew what the great oaf would throw at them today, but he wasn’t about to go over and find out, instead, he casually leaned on the tree next to Harry. "So, what’s got you’re nickers in a twist?"

Harry shot him an unamused glance, "None of your..." Then he stopped, grimacing slightly before turning away. "Who says my nickers are in a twist, anyway?"

"Oh, like it takes a bloody genius to figure it out." Draco noted the sharp elbow in his ribs, but ignored the quickly spreading pain, "You look like you’ve lost your Weasel."

Harry looked back at him sharply, "And you look like a twisted tooth fairy."

Draco paled, "Potter, I am going to pretend you did not just say that."

The Gryffindor quirked an eyebrow and shrugged, "Whatever, Malfoy."

Weasley and Granger were headed back and Draco decided he’d rather wrestle giant worms or slimy whatalls than deal with the Weasel gloating and laughing about exactly how wrong this shade of pink was for his already light complexion. "See you later, Potter."

Harry watched Malfoy walk off, his somewhat cold demeanor melting into relief. Hermione stopped beside him, handing him a pair of especially thick gloves, "What did you say to him, Harry, he looked like he was going to be sick for a moment there."

"I told him the pink hair made him look like the tooth fairy."

Ron’s face became a mix of horror and amusement and Hermione had to pause for a moment in the middle of opening the small box they’d carried over, "Harry, remind me to show you a picture later."

Suddenly catching on, Harry tried to cover his chuckle, "I’m taking it the tooth fairy isn’t a good natured woman in a pink too-too?"

"No, Harry, no their not."

 

__________________________

 

Draco dragged himself miserably through the halls towards the Slytherin dungeon much later that night. The new captain of the Quidditch team was just about on his last nerve. If he heard one more time that he wasn’t paying attention that boy would be speaking through other orifices for a week. Of course he wasn’t paying attention, it was becoming unpleasantly clear that, no matter how he tried to deny it, he was concerned about Harry. More than just concerned, he was positively fretting. He’d watched the Gryffindor during both lunch and dinner. It seemed that despite his friend’s efforts, the raven haired boy refused to eat, he just picked at it and occasionally made a half-hearted attempt to swallow some.

Oh, sod it all! He was Draco bloody Malfoy he was not supposed to be watching Harry bloody Potter’s every mood and he was not suppose to be bloody worried about... "Malfoy?"

Stopping sudenly in mid-stamp Draco grabbed the wall for support, trying to make it look less like an attempt to keep his balance and more like a suave turn. "Potter!"

Harry was standing against the wall next to a portrait, more than a little amused, "You walked right past me." Draco shrugged, still leaning awkwardly against the wall, "We need to talk."

"Says he who called me the bloody tooth fairy." Pushing off the wall, he stumbled slightly and cursed under his breath before gaining his footing, "Besides, didn’t you say it was none of my business?"

Harry made a face, "I started to, but quite frankly it is your business, so, if you don’t mind?" He gestured towards the classroom door on his left and Draco grudgingly entered after him, shutting and locking the door, and waited somewhat patiently while Harry erected silencing charms.

They stood facing each other in silence for some time. Draco sensed that it was probably better the let Harry speak first, and every few moments it appeared the Gryffindor might - he’d opening his mouth before shutting it and scowling nervously. Nearly five minutes later, Harry seemed to lose patience with himself and sat down on the desk, rubbing his temples, "All right, the thing is, no matter how often I practice this it’s just not something any man should ever have to say. So, instead, we’re going to play a kind of twenty questions till you get it right."

"What’s twenty questions?"

One look at Harry’s suddenly furious gaze and he backed off, taking a seat across from him and waiting for the first class glare to slowly melt from his face. Snape would be proud. After several deep breaths, the green eyes relaxed and Harry took a deep breath, "Well, the thing is Malfoy, I... no, wait. Remember last night when we were doing inventory and I told you there should have been five hang over remedies missing, but there were only four?" Draco nodded slowly, "What else was missing?"

"I don’t know?" The green eyes flashed dangerously and Draco quickly scanned his brain, holding back a chuckle, "About three vials of ‘easy slip’ lubricant."

Harry went both beat red and pale, putting his head in his hands and mumbled, "Other than that."

"Who do you think took those, anyway?"

"Malfoy!" Definitely red, but also very obviously devoid of patience, "Other than the lubricant."

Shrugging, Draco put his hands behind himself for support as he leaned back and kicked the air, "I really have no clue. I was far too angry with you for the hair to remember those lists."

Harry took a few more deep breaths, his face slowly returning to its natural golden shade, his ears, however, retained the embarrassed pink shade, "Think really hard, Malfoy, or it’ll be gold and red before you can take out your mirror."

Paling slightly, Draco sat up, fingering his back pocket protectively as he tried to defend himself. "I do not have a mirror!"

"Some third year saw you take it out a few months ago."

Draco crossed his arms over his chest and huffed, his good mood ruined, "Find, whatever, can we just get on with this?"

Rolling his eyes, Harry took a very large breath, "Male fertility potion, Malfoy. There was one male fertility potion missing."

"That’s right!" He chuckle deeply, trying to keep his voice down, "I was too busy picturing you on Snape’s couch to remember that. What, you took that instead?" He nodded, his face a mask of non-emotion. "That’s classic! You fertilized yourself? Well, I’m not having sex with you again if that’s what your getting at. I don’t care how bad you wanna get knocked up..."

He felt two hands nearly shove him off his perch and pink hair fell in his face. "Time before that, Malfoy."

Harry had taken the potion when they’d gotten drunk the time before? That’s right, that would be the time Draco woke up to the entire Slytherin dorm watching him vomit, a week before they’d (shudder) tried to have sex. Well, technically they had, technically he’d gotten it in before... before...

Oh bloody hell. "No way." Pausing he added, "No way!" again just for good measure. "Absolutely positively no way in hell are you... you know."

Harry shook his head gravely, "Afraid so. The potion’s effects last two weeks and we..."

"Don’t say it!" Draco got off the desk and started pacing the room as the shock of the realization began to wear off, "Do you have any idea what this means?" One heir, one heir, the Malfoy line could only have one heir, he could only have one child. This was not happening, not with Harry of all people. Friend yes, lover no; and even if his father had ignored their friendship, or if he’d been to angry to reply, there wasn’t a charm or curse around that could keep him from getting his hands on his son when he found out Draco had secured the family line with a Potter.

Harry’s eyes slitted dangerously, "Of course I bloody well know what it means, Malfoy. It means I’m god damned pregnant with you sodding child! You think I’m happy about this?"

Draco kicked a desk over and eyed another one dangerously, "No, I very much doubt you’re a ball of joy, Potter." He paused and looked back curiously, seeing Harry had seated himself on the floor, back against the wall. He looked remarkable like he had the night one month ago when... Not thinking about that, actively not thinking about that. He slithered down the wall as well, doing his best to ignore the irony of the familiar position. "So, who all knows?"

He felt Harry sigh heavily next to him, but the other boy had put his head between his upraised knees and didn’t appear keen on looking up, "Dumbledore, Madame Pomphrey, Professor McGonagal and Snape. Oh, and Ron and Hermione; they kind of knew something was up, so there was no use hiding it."

"What, like you’ve had morning sickness?"

"No."

"Mood swings?"

"No."

"Discolored nipples?"

"Bloody hell, I’m not a girl, Malfoy." Harry looked up sharply, scrunching his nose in distaste, "I really didn’t get a very clear explanation myself, or if I did I wasn’t paying close enough attention. The baby is in this kind of magical bubble, I suppose, and the only thing it gets from me, apart from the usual DNA contribution, is food and magic to sustain the life. All I’ll be getting are some strange food cravings, and a swollen belly."

Draco reached his hand out wearily, "Is it swollen yet?"

Harry moved away quickly, the moon light hit his face from the window as he stood and it appeared paler than normal, "No, of course not, it’s only a month. It won’t start showing for a while."

He added something under his breath that Draco didn’t catch and didn’t bother to pry for. He got up as well, dusting off the back of his pants in case there had been any dirt on the floor and looked at Harry for a moment, "You don’t look so well."

Harry nodded, leaning against the wall, "I haven’t eaten all day, I feel kind of dizzy."

"Want me to..."

Harry held up a hand and shook his head, "No, whatever you were going to say, no. This doesn’t change anything between us, Malfoy. We’re friends and that’s all, we enjoy each others pain because the look on your face is really funny and you like to see how far you can push me. Nothing changes. If it makes you feel better I’ll be going to the kitchens for a really large meal before I go to bed, but I don’t need company."

Draco shrugged and walked out the door, standing in the hall until he saw Harry emerge, "Potter?" He searched the green eyes for something, anything that could help him, but Harry seemed to have closed himself off rather effectively, "I just need time to think and when I’m done we are going to have a very long, very detailed conversation. This may not change our friendship, but it changes just about everything else."

Harry nodded, a small frown on his lips as he walked away. Draco’s voice lowered to an inaudible whisper, "It changes so much more than you know. One heir, Harry, I get one."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted in 2003. I have not extensively edited since then. I apologize.

Stupid curse. Stupid goddamned ancestors who had probably thought it was a bloody brilliant idea. Oh yes, positively brilliant. Curse their own family line in about three different ways. One to ensure that the first born would always be male, another to sterilize all Malfoy men with the exception of the youngest, and a last to make sure that should something happen to that youngest heir his father would be able to have another child. There was more to it, much more; if it had been that simple someone would have found a way around it by now, but they hadn’t and he’d knocked up Harry and that was that.

Why hadn’t he told Harry? Draco thumped his head against the dorm room wall in frustration. Why hadn’t he told him about that? He’d told him everything else. Well, almost everything. He had most certainly not brought up the fact that his mother read him bedtime stories right up until he left for Hogwarts, he’d not mentioned that he’d fallen off his broom well more than the average number of times before getting it right, and he would never, under pain of death or cruciatus, tell Harry he’d wet his bed when he was six.

He had, however, told him the important bits. Harry knew, for instance, exactly what he’d rather do than become a death eater (there had been some rather descriptive suggestions made), but that the thought of being disinherited was far more painful than death. Harry knew he had a pension for interior design and fashion even though he was decidedly not gay, although decidedly straight was debatable at this moment. For god’s sake Harry knew he’d lost his virginity to Parkinson.

The answer, of course, was very simple, the subject of children had just never come up. Never, in all their talks, had either of them said ‘hey, how many kids do you want?’ It wasn’t an issue. Staying alive was an issue and, seeing as they were teenage boys, having sex was an issue, but children were the last thing on either of their minds.

Draco buried his head in his pillow and screamed into it, slamming his fist against the mattress a few frustrated times before taking a deep breath and rolling over onto his back. It just couldn’t happen. Regardless of whether his father disinherited him, regardless of whether his lost all the money, he was still the only Malfoy heir, it was still up to him to carry out the Malfoy family line.

That was, of course, unless his father killed him. Once again cursing his ancestors for their foresight in establishing that little bi-clause he wondered if his father would in fact kill him and have another heir. It wasn’t impossible, his father was old, but not that old by wizarding standards. He was only in his fifties, if he wanted another son it was perfectly viable. The Parkinsons might be pissed off, seeing as Draco was bethroved to Pansy, but they’d get over it, and, besides, it wasn’t like the marriage could go through now anyway.

Taking yet another deep, calming breath, Draco analyzed the situation, trying to get around one simple fact; he could not carry on the family name through Potter. He just couldn’t. He had two options, he could wait for his father to find out and kill him, Harry, and the baby, or he could handle it himself. ‘Handle it,' however, meant doing something he wasn’t sure he could.

He thought back to the first time he and Harry had gotten drunk. Most of the night was a blur, but there were certain parts that were very clear, one of those was Harry telling him how much he wanted a real family. But this wasn’t a real family, was it? This was some fluke, and they weren’t going to live happily ever after, it would be an utter disaster and that was if they lived long enough to see it through.

Lucius Malfoy was not the only concern, there was also Voldemort. How could Harry fight He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named when he was trying to take care of a baby, trying to keep it safe? The baby would become an instant target, not to mention that Harry would be vulnerable while pregnant; his magic was sustaining the life and if there was an attack, if the death eaters came after him, there was no way he would be able to fight them off.

It just wasn’t right, none of it was right. Word would get out soon and when it did there was no telling how much time they’d have before Voldemort decided to take this divine opportunity to strike. This was bad for both of them, it put both their lives at risk. The middle of a war was not the time to be having children, especially not for people who were already wearing two of the biggest bloody targets; or soon would be.

He swung his legs over the side of his bed and went to his trunk, opening it quietly. After several minutes of rummaging carefully through the priceless contents he came up with a book and set it in his lap, running his thin fingers over the delicately imprinted letters, ‘A Complete Guide to Herbs and Their Properties.’

Towards the back was a chapter he had never bothered to look in before, ‘Holistic Healing and Pregnancy.’ There he found a very long list of herbs that should not be taken during pregnancy and the reasons why. Scanning the list, he took another deep breath to still his heart, which seemed to be trying to make a painful escape. Draco scrambled back up onto his bed, forgetting to close his trunk as he cradled the book to his chest, reassure himself that he was doing the right thing.

This for Harry as much as it was for him. Harry couldn’t afford this. It was for Harry.

 

____________________

 

Draco did not sleep that night and was eternally grateful for the pepper up potion he had stored right next to the alcohol in the secret compartment of his double layered trunk. As he walked down the hall to lunch he brushed his fingers through his gelled hair, making sure it was securely in place, then shoved them discretely into the pocket of his robe, feeling the little vial of American mandrake in his pocket.

He’d had three choices--American mandrake, poke root, and penny royal; of those, American mandrake was the most commonly used in potions. It would be very easy for the miscarriage to be blamed on him having ingested it in class at some point, especially seeing as it had to be administered in several small doses over the week rather than all at once. Mandrake, in all forms, was a fairly potent poison if too much was used at one time and he had no intentions of killing Harry. If Draco did this right, Harry would just be a little ill for a few days afterwards.

He had the mandrake, but now he had to figure out how to get Harry to take it. He couldn’t very well walk up to him and say ‘take this, it’ll make it all better.’ Harry knew him too well to fall for something like that without knowing what the hell was in the bottle and doing a good week of research on it first. Not that Harry didn’t have good cause. The last time those words had left Draco’s mouth was when he handed Harry the first bottle of alcohol.

Filing into the Great Hall with the other students, Draco made a quick scan of the Gryffindor table, looking for Harry. And he found him. Harry, despite the bags under his eyes showing that he had gotten very little sleep, was flushed. Hell, he might as well have been glowing. Ron leaned over and said something in his ear that made him cheeks go from slightly pink to bright red and Hermione giggled, obviously having heard.

For a moment, the blonde just watched the three. Didn’t have mood swings his ass. If this wasn’t a mood swing Draco was the son of a mudblood whore; whore, yes, mudblood, no. He shoved off the wall he had been leaning against and walked briskly over to the Gryffindor table. "Potter."

Harry lifted his head from the crook of his arm, where he had buried it a few moments before. The red in his cheek vanished and Draco felt his stomach drop a little. Whatever had been making Harry so happy had nothing to do with him. "Malfoy?"

Weasley shot a dirty look at the Slytherin over Harry’s shoulder, but Draco ignored it, leaning down to whisper in Harry’s ear, lowering his voice so the others couldn’t hear them, "As long as you carry the Malfoy family heir you will eat properly." He stood straight again, feeling unwelcome and confusing pride when he noted the flush was back in Harry’s face. "Are we clear?" Chuckling at Harry’s quick, urgent nod, Draco leaned back down, using one hand to support himself and the other to start piling starch laden food onto Harry’s plate, "Now, we need to talk. Usual place, but we’d better do it right after potions as you seem to need a good nights sleep."

Oh, now Harry was full out blushing again, even his ears had turned red at the mention of his obvious late night, "Honestly, Malfoy..." but he seemed be having trouble coming up with something to say, so he settled on, "Fine, after Potions."

Draco went to his own house table and ate solemnly, the unwelcome pride still welled in his chest. He had made Harry blush. It wasn’t anything beyond a friendly interest and he knew he should have become used to this by now. It was the same way he’d felt when they’d agreed to have sex. ‘Just to make him happy.’ Now he was willing to do something that could very well get him put in Azkaban and for what? ‘To keep him safe.’ The silent after thought of ‘to keep myself safe’ nagged at the back of his mind, but he ignored it, focusing on Harry.

Was it more? Did he like Harry? Did he more than like him? There hadn’t been many people in Draco’s life that he could say he liked, and there was no one he could say he loved. The episode with Pansy had been just that, an episode to lose his virginity. He’d have to have been blind to find the woman physically attractive, and her personalty was absolutely grating.

Had he liked anyone? Certainly not his father; a father who would subject his son to torture just to hear him say he’d join a defeated lord. Voldemort hadn’t even been resurrected the first time he’d cursed that out of him. It hadn’t taken much, at the time Draco wasn’t afraid he’d have to follow through with the promise. No, Lucius Malfoy could go to hell and it wouldn’t be enough. Narcissa wasn’t far behind. She had never been mom, or mommy. Draco had called her that when he was four and been slapped for his effort. She was mother, only mother, a cold, indistinct, dispassionate tittle that fit her very well. She may not deserve retribution, but she never did anything to deserve his love.

By the time he found himself waiting in the abandoned room for Harry, his mind was swimming in thought. The closest he’d come to actually trusting anyone before Harry, was Snape. Professor Snape had never told his father anything. No matter what Draco had done, no matter how he’d acted up, Snape always took it upon himself to lecture and reprimand him rather than going to Lucius. There were times, early on, when he’d been mad at Snape for that, mad at the attention he wasn’t getting from his father, but in the end he was always grateful.

So, he liked Snape; even if the man was being an utter ass as of recent, he still hadn’t turned him over to his father when he’d cocked an attitude the other day. A small chuckle escaped Draco’s throat as he remembered calling Snape a bastard. He really shouldn’t have gone that far, but thinking about it now he realized exactly how much he must trust his professor to have said that.

Not that any of this was helping him decide where he stood with Harry. He knew he liked him, but he liked Snape too and in an entirely different way. Draco had never, and would never, go out of his way to make Professor Snape blush or laugh or smile. Harry on the other hand... When Harry smiled he lit up a room. When Harry laughed Draco could hear it from across the Great Hall. When Harry blushed his insides twisted up. When Harry blushed for him it was all he could do not to blush back.

Lifting his knees up, Draco hung his head between them, his hand clenched around the muggle Coke spiked with American mandrake that he intended to give Harry. He’d remembered, and god only knew how, Harry saying he really liked Coke, but that he was lucky if he got water at the Dursleys’ and at Hogwarts it was almost unheard of, literally.

He tried not to imagine Harry’s face when he saw it. Draco could see Harry’s eyes in the back of his head, bright and just that shade of green. Damnit! He could not be in love with Harry Potter. Concerned was bad enough, but love? "Not good, not good."

"What’s not good?" Draco’s head shot up and saw Harry’s head peaking into the room. "Sorry it took so long to get here, Professor Snape wanted to see me."

Taking a deep breath, Draco felt the cold can against his fingers, condensation dripping into his palm, "About what?"

"He says I’m not concentrating." Harry smiled strangely, "Like I ever do, right?"

Draco took a deep breath and held the coke out stiffly towards Harry, "I thought you might like this."

Those eyes were a perfect match to his imagination, but the starved look on Harry’s face as he grabbed the can and popped it open, probably draining half of it in one gulp, was nothing like what he expected. With a deep sigh of relief, Harry slide down the wall and sat next to Draco, "Oh, god, so good."

After a moment of forced silence Draco laughed, suddenly not caring who heard, "You make it sound like sex, Potter."

Harry winked suggestively, taking another gulp and moaning lewdly, "Better than, if the sex is with you."

Draco started to elbow him, but stopped short, smirking instead to cover the sudden pang of hurt in his chest that he didn’t feel like investigating. "Potter, look, I know I got upset yesterday. It’s just that ‘I’m pregnant,’ or variations thereof, was not something I expected to hear."

"I never expected to have to say it, but I think I’m getting used to it. Maybe it’s easier for me because I’ve always wanted it. Well, not wanted to get knocked up, but I did want a family, so I suppose I can live with the inconvenience of timing or whatever. It just doesn’t matter."

When he heard Harry put the empty can down he closed his eyes for a moment. Damn, no way to deny it, that was guilt he felt eating at the inside of his stomach like acid. "So, what’s the great plan? I’m assuming getting our own apartment after graduation is not an option anymore."

Harry shook his head and started to stand up. Draco noticed him leaning heavily on the wall for support and jumped up to help, guilt eating even further into his conscience. The Gryffindor shook off the offered arm and straightened, "Stop that. I’m not... delicate or anything, just tired."

Draco found himself grinning mischievously, "You are to delicate. You’re about as skinny as an undernourished house elf and you fall off your broom at least once a year."

He dodged Harry’s swinging arm, seeing the amused light glinting behind the green eyes, the mouth slightly upturned in a poorly hidden smile and, without allowing himself time to really think, he grabbed the back of Harry’s head and kissed him. It was quick, it was over in an instant, but for some reason it felt longer. Nothing more than a peck. He’d twined his fingers into the unruly black mass and pressed his lips to Harry’s, just to see.

Pulling back, he scrunched his nose up, purposefully not looking at Harry’s shocked face and limply hanging arms. Well, at least he’d managed to kill the guilt with a good old fashion dose of embarrassment. They had kissed when they had sex, open mouthed and passionate, but he hadn’t been paying attention; too much of his brain had been caught up in ‘oh my god, I’m about to have sex with a boy.’

Draco had thought, or rather hadn’t, that kissing Harry again would help him make up his mind, and it had. The only problem was that now he had even more questions than before.

Harry seemed to be coming out of his shock induced state, "What was that?"

The Slytherin shrugged, brushing hair out his face and noting offhandedly that it was blonde again. Harry’s retribution usually didn’t last very long. "A kiss. I thought maybe I liked you as more than a friend."

"Do you?"

He looked at Harry’s face and rolled his eyes, "I don’t know."

Harry looked around the room uncertainly before closing the door, silently thankful no one had been passing when Draco had decided to kiss him. That was the last thing he needed. "Malfoy, do you like me as more than a friend?"

For a nearly a minute the only sound was their breathing. When Draco spoke Harry nearly jumped in start, "Yeah, but not like that. I don’t want to talk about it."

"Then you probably shouldn’t have kissed me." Draco leaned against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest. "Malfoy." The tone was more demanding than questioning.

Draco rolled his eyes and looked at Harry, trying to figure out how to say he didn’t know without looking like a complete wanker. "I... don’t know." ‘Oh brilliant, now I sound like the peak of intelligence.’

Harry was staring at him like he had lost his mind, not that he could blame him. "All right. You like me as more than a friend, but not like that. Let's start with how do you like me?"

Turning the question over in his mind Draco frowned, "Does it matter? I’m not answering your stupid questions, Potter."

"Yes, it matters!" Harry put a hand on stomach, "I am pregnant, Malfoy, with... with your child." His brows furrowed, "What the hell made you suddenly like me, anyway?"

God, if Harry would just move away from the door he could make a break for it. "The whole baby issue. I just started thinking about it, and I realized I do worry about you all the bloody time, no matter how hard I try to deny it, and we hang out a lot. I know I spend most of that time pissing you off, but I still - I can’t believe I’m admitting this - like being around you. So I just thought maybe that meant something more, but I kissed you and there wasn’t anything there so that means I still have to figure out why I like being around you and why I’m concerned."

For a moment the room was utterly silent, then Harry put his hand up to his mouth, chuckling into it. Draco scowled, "Don’t you dare laugh, Potter. Pregnant or not, I will still kick your arse."

Harry shook his head emphatically, trying desperately to control his laughter, "I’m not laughing at... no, wait, I am."

"Sod off, Potter"

"No, look, Malfoy," Draco glared as Harry tried to keep a straight face, "You like me the way you like your father."

The blonde’s eyes slitted in revulsion, "I in no way think of you like my father. I don’t want you dead."

"Then a brother."

The revulsion doubled, "You and the Weasel are like brothers and I refuse to be put in the same category as him."

"A cousin then." When the thin mouth opened to protest again, Harry put his hand over it, "A very distant cousin. The point is you like me like you like family."

"And what makes you such a fucking expert?"

"Not an expert, just observant. Think about it, Malfoy, in the meantime, I’ve got homework."

In the back of his mind, jumbled among the thoughts of ‘if’ and ‘he could be right,’ Draco noted that Harry went the wrong way as he left the room.

 

____________________

 

According to Draco’s calculations it should have been a week before either Harry or the baby were affected. He had taken to sitting with Harry, Weasley, and Granger for breakfast, mostly because it was easier to slip him the herbs that way rather than having to get his hands on another stupid Coke. Although, he had every intention of getting one by the end of the week; that orgasmic face had been far too... oh, god, had he just thought cute?

Putting his head in his hands, he ignored Professor Sinistra’s glare at his inattention. So, he’d admitted that he liked Harry as family and, in fact, he thought that his feeling towards the Gryffindor were very similar to those he had for Professor Snape. He silently damned his father again, for telling him Malfoy’s did not like people, let alone love them; they did like them, it was just that most were too ignorant to recognize it.

He shoved all thoughts of his father aside and bit back a grin as the first thing that came to mind was the cheekish guilt on Harry’s face that morning at breakfast. In the last three days Harry had downed so much orange juice Draco was beginning to fear the house elves would run out of oranges. His voiced concern had been rewarded with much blushing and many sharp elbows.

Due to the hours of frustrating calculations and research he had done regarding male pregnancy he was more than just a little shocked when Professor Snape showed up during his Arithmacy exam and requested to speak with him outside. Harry had apparently collapsed during Divination.

Draco nodded, pretending to listen to his head of house while he turned the information over in his head. He could feel some disappointment, but wasn’t sure if it was because he had miscalculated, or because it was done. The guilt that had been continually eating at him had suddenly gone numb. Could be good, could be bad, he wasn’t really sure. There was relief, it was over, it was done, no taking it back, no worrying about whether he should or shouldn’t.

So, why didn’t he feel particularly better?

Professor Snape touched his arm lightly and his head snapped up, his eyes focusing on the concerned face in front of him. "Mr, Malfoy, I believe it would be best if you went back to your dorm for the remainder of the evening. I’ll speak with the other professors."

Draco nodded and began walking toward the dungeons. Professor Snape looked... well, there really wasn’t a good way of describing it, he just looked different. Stiffer maybe, if that were possible, and his emotions were entirely unreadable. He didn’t look angry or annoyed, which were his two favorite expressions, he didn’t even look guarded, just blank. Well, not entirely blank, if Draco didn’t know better he’d say Snape was anxious about something. The professor turned and walked towards the infirmary, rather quickly, without even one of his customary long glances.

Strange, but then the whole thing was strange. Sitting in his room, hours later, he glared wordlessly at his sheets. He hadn’t gone down for lunch, and dinner had already starting. What was wrong with him? He should have been ecstatic that the whole thing was over and done with, he should have been jumping for joy and laughing with his friends. The great trauma that had the potential to get him killed, and Harry as well, was gone. It was no more.

All right, that was it. Jumping off his bed he made his way up the stairs and out of the commons room. As long as everyone was busy eating he might as well go and see Harry. Maybe that was what he was worried about, maybe some part of him wanted to cheer Harry up. It made sense, well, as much sense as any of his wayward emotions did now a days.

Over all, Draco was getting really tired of emotions. It had started out really simply, as a need to vent, to not hold in everything the way every other Malfoy always did. Now he knew why they did it. You let out one and the rest came pouring out whether you wanted them to or not. Love, guilt, relief, anxiety, nerves, everything was piling up now that he couldn’t talk to Harry and he wasn’t sure how long he could hold it in, but, then, it wasn’t like he had anyone else to tell.

Silently entering the infirmary, he looked around for Harry. The Gryffindor was laying in his usual bed, in the far left hand corner. He was curled on his side, his fingers clutched around the blankets that he’d pulled against his face. Draco tried to snicker. He looked like a little child. Why didn’t that help?

He’d just turned around, deciding that waking Harry was probably not the best thing to do at the moment, when a barely audible whisper reached him, "Draco? That you?"

The words were slurred together, and despite the inexplicable urge to run, Draco walked over to the bed and sat down, eyeing the vials on the side table, "Yeah, it’s me. They told me and..." Oh great, the guilt was back, and it felt like it had brought a few cousins. "Well, I just wanted to come and see if you were all right?"

Harry shook his head, his face was remarkable lax, "Not really. I kind of think I had a nervous breakdown. Sssnape gave me something and I feel better now, though."

Draco smiled at the way Harry had scrunched his nose and drawn the S out in their professor’s name, like it had felt funny on his tongue. "But you’re better now?"

He shook his head, black hair falling in his face, "No, not really. It’s gone. I’m not sure what... I... but it’s gone." It was quiet for some time after, Draco thought he might have fallen asleep when he suddenly spoke up again, "Hey, what’d they give me, anyway? I can’t read the labels, but this is some good shite."

Laughing softly, Draco picked up the two empty vials and his eyebrows shot up, "My god, Potter, this is good. This is one of the strongest calming potions there is. I think the only one stronger is used for the Cruciatus victims and only when their having a particularly bad night. And this other one is a numbing potion, very strong as well."

Harry mumbled something of which Draco caught ‘stupid greasy bastard’ and chuckled. "Why, Potter, if he ever heard you say that."

"He’d not that bad."

Draco’s eyes just about fell out of his head, staring at the overly serene face, "Not that bad? Maybe if you were a Slytherin, but even then, Potter, the man hates you."

"He doesn’t." Harry shook his head duly and Draco brushed the stray hairs out of the unfocused green eyes, "He says I’m an insolent little prat, but he doesn’t hate me, he only does it to turn me on." Harry’s hands flew up to his mouth far faster than he should have been capable of.

For nearly a minute Draco’s mind refused to process the information. He sat in the chair, staring down at Harry’s face which was the oddest mix of relaxed shock. Draco stopped breathing for a moment, his guilt ridden brain running things through it once more, just to make sure, ‘Wait a moment, he just said turn me on and he was talking about S..., "Wait, he what?!"

Harry shook his head emphatically, taking his hands carefully from his mouth, "He nothing. Absolutely nothing."

Squinting his eyes suspiciously at Harry, he leaned forward, "Potter, I just heard you say that Professor Snape, my head of house, the most unattractive man in Hogwarts..."

"He is not!" Draco raised an eyebrow at the defensive note in Harry’s otherwise calm demeanor, "There’s always Dumbledore. Or Flitwick. At least I’m not fucking professor Flitwick."

The hands covered his mouth again, and Draco stared, open mouthed. That was in no way an obscure message. The other could have been passed off as their flirting with each other which, while disturbing, was not nearly as horrifying as the thought of them sleeping together. "Potter, while I do like to consider myself intelligent, or at least more so than you, would you mind telling me exactly what you meant by that? Only I thought I heard you insinuate you were having sex with Snape."

Harry gave a very uncharacteristic giggle and it occurred to Draco that while the conversation may be causing him permanent psychological damage it was at least making Harry feel better. "I... am really not supposed to be telling you this, Draco, I mean really. But I suppose, at least now I know how Hagrid feels."

Draco forced himself ignored that Harry had used his given name, "I don’t care how that great oaf feels, I care how I feel, and right now that’s slightly nauseous. Potter, tell me you didn’t. Tell me you’re just, I don’t know, momentarily out of your mind."

"Oh, that’s easy. I am out of my mind." The rush of adrenaline, or whatever it was, Harry had been feeling after his slip of the tongue was apparently wearing off. He smiled lazily, "But I wasn’t when I was bent over your desk taking..."

"Potter!" Draco put his hands over his ears, telling his wayward emotions that, no, this was not good. Hearing Potter's light hearted chuckle was not good if it meant sacrificing what little he’d eaten that morning. "Hold a moment, my desk?"

Harry grinned impishly, his eyes slightly misted, "Well, our desk really, but you’re side, because it’s closer to the isle and it gives Sev more room to..."

Draco grabbed the empty vial of calming potion off the side table and tipped the few left over drops that had pooled at the bottom into his own mouth, cringing at the taste and the way his tongue went momentarily numb before the cold of the calming potion swept through his body, leaving him slumped in his chair against Harry’s bed. "Oh, that better." It wouldn’t last long, maybe five minutes, maybe ten, but he figured when it wore off he could try and break into the reserve cabinet across the room.

"You, Potter, are going to tell me why."

Harry grinned mischievously, and Draco immediately knew he wouldn’t like what was about to come out of his friend’s mouth, however the potion prevented him from immediately feeling the panic he should have. "Well, I was being insolent again, and he got really mad this time and decided to spank me and it hurt, too, but it kind of turned me on and there wasn’t really a bed handy. I suppose I could have walked through the dungeons back to his room with him, but I had a rather obvious hard on so he..."

His brain finally caught up with what he was hearing and groaned, "Harry! Not, ‘why on the desk,’ ‘why Snape?’ When Snape? Was I so bad I put you off the human species?"

"Snape is human and it had nothing to do with you, anyway, it started the end of last year."

Draco could feel curiosity tickling at him, despite his better judgement, and he laid his head next to Harry’s, staring him in the eyes, "You were sleeping with him during sixth year?"

Shaking his black hair slowly, Harry lowered his voice slightly, as though there were someone around to hear. "No, we just started seeing each other and, before you ask, it’s none of your business why."

Draco thought it through. Harry was right, it wasn’t any of his business, but he figured he could get it out of him some other time. Some time when the Gryffindor wasn’t on the verge of a nervous breakdown. The guilt cheered on the logical side of his brain and his stomach flipped a few times. Damnit, he would have preferred mindless disgust.

Neither said anything for a while, Draco wondered whether dinner was over, but figured Potters friends would be here as soon as it was. The potion was wearing off, but it was still enough of an influence to allow him to think properly. "Hey, Potter."

"Hm?"

"If you’ve been sleeping with Snape, why did you want to have sex with me?"

Harry took a deep breath, in and out, before answering, "He... said something, it made me upset and I wanted to get even."

Looking up, Draco eyed Harry suspiciously, "What could he have said that would warrant me fucking you?"

"Attempting to fuck me." Harry chuckled hoarsely at the face Draco made, as though he’d eaten something extra sour. "He said he’d slept with Sirius and then he laughed at me when I got upset."

"He cheated on you?" Draco’s voice was far calmer than he thought it ought to be. He should be feeling rather indignant. Someone had cheated on his first and, at the rate he was going, only friend. Damn calming potion, goes right ahead and quenched indignation and panic, but doesn’t do a damn thing for guilt.

It didn’t seem to matter, however, because Harry had shook his head, "No, no, back when they were here, at Hogwarts, before the whole... thing happened."

Draco looked Harry in the eyes, "You know, I’m beginning to think I may confide in you a lot more than you do in me. I mean, I told you I slept with Parkinson and you can’t even tell me my head of house is boffing you, or that he was boffing a convict before hand."

"Oh, about that, Sirius didn’t do it. He’s innocent. He gave me the firebolt. And Severus wasn’t ‘boffing’ anything, Sirius was."

"I knew you weren’t telling me... oh, oh now I have a mental image, Potter, and I did not need a mental image." He closed his eyes, but found that all it did was make the vision of his Potions Professor bent over double having sex with the man that he’d seen in the article their third year clearer. Logically, he knew they’d been younger and there was a chance, however minimal, that Snape and the shaggy convict had been somewhat attractive, but the logical side of his brain was refusing to have anything to do with him. He rather thought it had teamed up with the guilt.

Harry nodded, "See, that’s what I said and he laughed at me."

"Potter, not to undermine what I’m sure was a painful experience, but why were you asking in the first place?"

"Stupid trust issues, that’s why. He never talks, just sits there and scowls, or smirks, he’s as good at it as you are. So, I told him he had to tell me something, something really personal and I don’t think he liked that very much because what he told me was that he and Sirius had sex back when they were in school. To make it worse, he told me details and when I said I didn’t need those mental images he told me I shouldn’t have asked."

Harry’s voice had slowly risen in pitch and he sighed deeply, "So, I got upset." He sounded calmer, suddenly, and it unnerved Draco. What if the potion were wearing off? What if Harry started breaking down again before Snape got back, and where was Snape, anyway? This was his (shudder) lover. Shouldn’t he be at his side when he was hurt?

The raven haired boy’s breathing evened, Draco hadn’t even noticed it had been faster, and his voice lowered to a near whisper, "So, when you offered to help I just figured, hey, what better way to get even then have sex with someone he doesn’t want to picture. You. He sees you like a son," he paused, "or a nephew. You know what, though, I only felt worse afterward, and not just physically either."

"Um, Harry, are you okay? Maybe I should..."

Harry didn’t seem to hear him, though, he’d gone into a kind of trance and Draco felt the potion wearing completely off himself, he was feeling the panic that told him this was not good, something wasn’t right. "I felt worse because I wasn’t mad that he’d slept with Sirius, I wasn’t even really mad that he’d laughed at me. I was just furious that he laughed. He’d never laughed. He chuckles, he smirks, he even gives the occasional wicked smile when he’s in a very, very good mood, but he never laughs, and when he finally did it was at my expense."

"So, I slept with you and then I told him, because Pomfrey couldn’t keep her mouth shut, and he was okay with it. Although, I did understand why he’d laughed. The way his nose got all scrunchy was priceless, like he’d eaten something gone horrible wrong."

Draco looked around the room, nervously. Couldn’t someone just come in? Harry was going to regret all this in the morning. He’d never been this free lipped. Not even drunk. He’d talked, but not like this. He’d talked about the Weasel or Granger or, on very rare occasions, the surface side of the Dursleys, but never anything really important.

He decided it was best to voice his opinions, at least this way he could tell Harry he’d tried to talk him out of it. "Harry, come on, you’re really going to regret this, you never tell me important shite. Never."

Harry shook his head firmly and Draco noticed his pupils weren’t as dilated. Great, the potion was definitely wearing off and where the hell was Snape? Maybe the lock on the cabinet wasn’t too hard to break. "Draco, I am sick and tired of everyone telling me I can’t trust you. I can, I know I can."

‘No, no don’t trust me’

"You aren’t like they say you are, you aren’t just another self serving Slytherin. That’s all just made up words to group a bunch of people together and make it easier to identify them. He’s brave, she’s smart, he’s tricky, she’s loyal. It’s all words, it doesn’t mean anything."

‘But it does mean something, I am like that, I’ve always been like that.’ Draco tried to take back the thought, but it was there and no matter how hard he tried to deny it, it was true. He was entirely self serving. He hadn’t done this for Harry. Harry wanted it, Harry would have been fine. If Dumbledore could protect Harry and this entire school than one small child wouldn’t make much of a difference.

If that were true, though, then why had he done it? ‘My father would have killed me.’ Oh, fine, so he’d done to save his own arse. The guilt was doing a little victory dance and he fought the urge to run to the nearest toilet. He’d killed the baby and he’d hurt Harry and he’d done it for the sole purpose of not giving his father another reason to kill him,.

Harry reached out his hand and seized Draco’s wrist, startling the Slytherin from his thoughts, "I trust you and you have a right to know, you always did." Before Draco could pull back, his hand was placed firmly on top of Harry’s stomach and held there.

It was large. Far larger than it should have been. Now that he looked he couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed. It was like a small basketball was inside there. Feeling around it, Draco took several deep breaths, telling the guilt to stop dancing, it wasn’t helping. "It grew so fast..."

"No, no it didn’t. It’s... well, it was six months along."

Staring at it dumbly, Draco gulped like a fish, "Six months? But we didn’t.. Not six months ago, anyway."

Harry shook his head, "No, we didn’t. But Sev and I did. One of the first few times we got drunk." Draco tried to breath. "He’d been so mad the first time. I thought anything was better than him having to see me drunk again. So, I snuck in and took some myself. Thing is I have a tendency to pass out on the floor when I have a hang over, regardless of what I’ve actually taken. It never occurred to me it could have been the wrong thing."

It wasn’t his. Harry was trying to tell him it wasn’t his.

"We noticed I’d gained weight, and Sev even made some rather dry jokes about being able to fuck me without worrying about my breaking, but it wasn’t until we were doing inventory that it occurred to me."

He’d killed it and it wasn’t his. He’d thought it was his, but it wasn’t.

"They said I could tell you after school let out. I started really showing almost as soon as we knew, so we needed a back up story, just in case someone noticed. Sev... well, we didn’t want it getting out that it was his while there were still so many people in the school. ‘Mione and Ron were going to stay too, to help me tell you."

School was out in two weeks. Everyone would have gone home and he would have known.

"It’s too big for my body to just, I dunno, absorb. Pomfrey said she’ll take it out tomorrow. I just can’t help but think I did something wrong. She says it was something I ate, something with a bad potion ingredient in it, probably some time ago. I just can’t help thinking it’s my fault."

Harry had let go of his hand, but Draco couldn’t take it away. It was so real all of a sudden. It hadn’t been really real before, just a thing he couldn’t see and if he couldn’t see it then it was all right to get rid of it. But it was real, he could feel the bulge of it under his finger tips and against his palm and it was his fault it was dead. Who had he been to decide it was better off dead? That he was better off with it dead?"

"Harry I..." He watched the green eyes focus on him, could see the guilt in the watery depths and the slightly pouted lip.

"I’m sorry, Harry, I’m so sorry. I thought it was mine."


	4. Chapter 4

“Three potions.”

Draco winced, but kept his head tilted down so that his Head of House couldn’t see. Snape held three fingers pointedly. “Two calming potions and a sedative that could knock out a hippogriff and he is still attempting to get out of bed to strangle you.”

Draco looked off to the side nervously. “Yes, Professor.” He sounded like a damn frog. Stupid Harry, he didn’t have to choke him so hard.

_Yes, he did._

_Shut up._

“Would you mind telling me what exactly you did to incur the wrath of Harry Potter?”

 _Told him I killed your unborn child in an act of self-preservation._ “I’ve no...”

“Mr. Malfoy, before you finish that, let me remind you that he will eventually calm down enough to speak and I highly doubt that he will be interested in keeping your secrets.” Draco bit his lip thoughtfully. “Need I remind you that it took three grown men to pull Potter off you?”

With a hefty sigh, Draco took a step back from Snape, carefully gauging his distance to make sure he was out of immediate arms' reach. “I told him... I thought it was mine, Professor. He told me about everything and I... I had thought it was mine.”

He couldn’t bring himself to give a better explanation. Besides, the entire hall had gone deadly silent save the faint sound of Harry in the infirmary, still screaming obscenities at the door. Snape had stopped breathing. He was staring at Draco with the kind of blank expression that he reserved for when he was truly livid.

“You thought it was yours.”

It wasn’t a question, but he answered anyway. “Yes, Professor.”

“You did something about it.”

Draco unconsciously took another step back. “I... yes, Professor.”

The blank expression wavered for just a moment and Draco considered running, but he was saved the trouble of fleeing for his life by Headmaster Dumbledore, who had chosen that moment to step out of the infirmary. Dumbledore looked from Snape, to Draco, then back again. “Has he anything to say?”

Snape nodded slowly. “He thought it was his, Professor, and decided to take care of the situation in the Malfoy family tradition.”

Draco cringed openly, not bothering to hide the hurt. It sounded so much worse put that way, but he knew Snape was right. It really was a bastard thing to do, a very Malfoy thing. Dumbledore considered Draco for a moment. “We’ll have to get in touch with his father, I’ve no wish to see him expelled, but with the severity of what he’s done, I’m not sure it can be avoided.”

Oh, god, his father was going to know everything. Draco gulped down the bile that was rising in his throat. “Headmaster?”

Dumbledore looked over suddenly and Draco thought he caught a flash of rage in his expression that far surpassed even his father’s temper. It died as quickly, though. “Yes, child?”

“Headmaster, my father...” He stuttered to a stop, realizing that there was nothing he could really say at the moment without sounding utterly pathetic. His father would kill him, yes, but he’d killed Harry’s child. Turn about really was fair play. “Nothing, sir.”

The Headmaster didn’t question it. He turned back to Snape, whose fists had clenched together in a surprising display of self control. “Severus, he’s yours to deal with until such time as Harry can recover his senses and I can decide the best course of action.”

Harry’s voice rose form behind the door. “No! I’m not taking anything else until you let me up so I can KILL HIM! Get in here, Malfoy!”

Oh, bloody hell. Draco rung his hands behind his back and Dumbledore sighed. “I suppose I should go and tighten the restraints.” Snape’s frown deepened. “Don’t worry, Severus, my boy, he’ll calm down eventually. Until then you are dismissed from classes, I’ll find someone to replace you for the remainder of the term.”

Snape opened his mouth to argue, but a stern look from Dumbledore and he closed it. “Harry needs you with him and while I may not approve, it is his decision. Escort Mr. Malfoy to his dorms and return immediately.”

That said Dumbledore left. He went back into the infirmary with the hysterically screaming Harry Potter and left Draco in the hallway, alone with Severus Snape. Draco had the insane urge to grab onto Dumbledore’s robes as they swished behind the door and beg not to be left alone with Snape, because Snape would kill him. Then the guilt chirped in, as it had been doing every few seconds since he first found out his plan had worked, and reminded him, once again, that he had just killed an innocent fetus and that if Snape wanted to kill him it would be justified.

Snape, however, hadn’t lunged at Draco the moment they were left alone. He’d stayed standing exactly where he was, staring at the young Malfoy with the kind of deep contempt that was reserved for things like that Professor Lupin, who had taught Defense in his third year.

“You are confined to your dorm when not attended classes. You will be eating meals in your dorm room, as well. You are also off the Quidditch team. And while I can not take house points without it looking suspicious, you will be having detention with me every day until the end of time. Is that understood?”

Draco wanted to scream that taking him off the team was unfair, but it wasn’t, so he nodded numbly and went about wondering exactly how he was expected to survive locked in a room alone with a man who wanted to kill him.

“Return to your dorm and if I find that you’ve deviated from the path you will be appropriately reprimanded.”

He might as well have said you’ll be hanging by your lower intestines from the dungeon ceiling. Draco nodded again and turned around, walking as briskly as he could without breaking into an all-out run.

Snape watched the quickly retreating figure and fingered his wand under his sleeve. He couldn’t do it right then, but very soon he would be able to do all the lovely things that were currently playing themselves out in his head. Some of them were legal, some not, but he’d do them all. He’d kill the obnoxious, spoiled little pure blood, then bring him back and kill him again. Draco bloody Malfoy was going to pay for ruining all those months (no, it had been over a year now) of planning.

It had taken nearly six months alone to seduce Harry Potter without the reckless little sod realizing he was being seduced. Months of pulling on every Slytherin tactic he’d ever even heard of to make the boy think of his hated professor as anything else. Months of catching his eye and holding it just a fraction too long, of ‘accidentally’ brushing against him when he walked past, of lowering his voice to one decibel above bedroom when they were alone together, of picking certain words and phrases that would eventually eat their way through the boy’s innocent exterior and plant themselves in his head.

Then, once the object of obsession was safely in his bed, he’d realized that it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough that Harry came for him at night, dreamed about him in his sleep, or fantasized about him during class, because Harry was still a Potter, regardless of who he was sleeping with, and in the tradition of all the Potter’s before him, he insisted on throwing himself into danger without thinking first. A concerned lover simply was not enough to bend his nature, but Snape knew what was. He knew what had settled James and had settled James father and his father before him and so on for countless generations. Potters were protective of their young, their little cubs who couldn’t yet protect themselves.

It hadn’t taken him long to formulate the plan, but to prepare the potion, to find a way to slip it to Harry without him realizing, to make sure they had sex nearly every other day, just in case he’d taken it and Snape hadn’t noticed (not likely, but miracles could happen), to pretend he knew nothing, all of that had taken self-control he hadn’t known he possessed. What if Harry rushed off, not knowing his condition? What if he got drunk again and fell down the stairs?

Of course, the best test of his control had come when he’d looked up from between his lover’s thighs, into the flushed face and realized that the plateau of Harry’s stomach no longer sunk in, but lay flat. He’d allowed himself one touch, one creep of his hand through the trial of dark hair, over the taught skin and muscles of the Quidditch toned abdomen. It had been another month before he could say anything, when the flat of Harry’s stomach had risen just enough to be noticeable.

_‘You’re filling out.’ He’d run his down Harry’s side and snuck it around the front to feel the subtle slope before diving down to grasp the already erect cock pressing into his stomach._

_‘I am not.’Harry moaned into Snape’s neck, such delicious little moans of pleasure that Snape would die before letting another hear._

_‘You are.’ He’d bit the boy’s ear, relishing in the pleased yelp. ‘I may yet be able to fuck you without fearing that you’ll break.’_

Then Harry had gone and let himself be fucked by the Malfoy brat. The only thing that had saved the Slytherin student was that his Harry had not enjoyed it and that it would never happened again. Snape really only had himself to blame. He knew Harry’s emotions better than Harry himself and he should never have let himself laugh at the look on the boy’s face. It had, however, been very amusing, and Snape did not find very many things amusing.

It had also served other purposes, though. The end of the year was nearing and Harry had a tendency to get into danger near the end of the year. It had become a matter of great importance that Harry find out about his condition soon, and Snape could not be there when he did. He needed Harry to run to him for answers so that he could pretend it was a ridiculous idea and then be stunned when it turned out to be true. Malfoy had been very convenient to that end – someone that would provoke him into giving them both detention, someone that would do a very thorough job of cataloging, someone who knew just enough about potions and about Snape to know what was there and what it was used for, and, more importantly, someone that Harry didn’t fully trust.

The Headmaster, no doubt, knew exactly what was going on the moment Harry meekly confessed who the father was. He put a great deal of trust in Snape, yes, but he also knew him. Albus knew that if Severus wanted something he would find a way to get it, that he could never be seduced by a fumbling child, and he also knew that Snape did not allow himself to want anything lightly. If he had not only allowed himself want Harry, but had taken him as well, then it was not simply some mild affection, and if he had done this then there was a reason and Albus would trust that it was for the best until it proved otherwise.

The Headmaster was not his problem, however, his problem was Malfoy and a certain, elaborate, brilliantly executed plan that he had been ruined because he couldn’t stomach the idea of being a father for two more bloody weeks. For that, Draco would die - multiple times - and Lucius would have to suffer sleeping with Narcissa again. Snape shuddered involuntarily. Poor Lucius.

Over a year of planning and he was back to the beginning. Well, nearly the beginning. Harry was still his and he could see to it that his lover became amenable to the idea of having a child again very soon. In fact... yes, it would be quite easy. Having lost this one so late in the pregnancy, Harry would be easy pray for suggestion. He’d be begging Snape within a few months, and when Snape refused to give him the potion, Harry would take it behind his back, because that was how Harry was – naive, vulnerable, and stubborn. A true Potter.

Harry’s scream cut through his thoughts like a knife. Oh, well, Malfoy and revenge could wait; he had other things to attend to first. With a grand sweep of his robes, Snape turned and strode into the infirmary.


End file.
